


Reciprocity

by bzarcher



Series: The Wizard Triumphant [7]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Espionage, F/F, Implied past Max/Widowmaker, Odile!AU, Other, Politics, Reprogrammed!Widowmaker, Revenge, Talon!Tracer, casino - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 09:28:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13656192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher
Summary: Talon created Odile and Slipstream from Widowmaker and Tracer.Talon tried to destroy them, as well.Now they’d like the chance to reply.





	1. Chapter 1

Monaco was a beautiful city.

Odile remembered visiting it a few times, but never as herself.

Amélie had honeymooned here. She hadn’t realized it was anything but a lovely destination at the time, but Gérard had selected the resort and casino for their week on the Riviera quite carefully. They’d dived in the waters off the beach, looked stunning at the gaming tables, and made love in their suite, but when she had gone off to enjoy the day spa or explored Monte Carlo, Gérard had been poking his nose into places it didn’t belong, having tense, heavily coded conversations with several members of the establishment’s ‘management.’

Widowmaker had made several appearances there, mostly in a capacity of a bodyguard or observing targets, but the memories were fragmented. Several had been followed by sessions of reconditioning, to ensure that nothing from her former existence would cause a disruption - that those old memories would be kept silent.

Still, a few had made enough of an impression to stick, despite the haze that often surrounded such things.

Odette never had a chance to visit Monaco, before Talon had recaptured her.

Odile had a feeling that if they had, Tracer would have kept them both far away from the casino her car was now approaching.

 _Enough_ , Odile thought to herself as the limo driver pulled into the curving driveway. _You are here, and now. You are Odile Guillard. You are here for your own reasons. Focus on what is around you, nothing else._

The car came to a halt in front of the grand entrance that lead to the casino, and a uniformed footman was there to open her door almost as soon as the vehicle stopped.

Odile reached into her purse for a compact, checked her makeup one last time, and grabbed her cane, using the leverage to help herself out of the car.

The well fitted dress she wore had a neckline that called attention to the silver and emerald necklace she wore, with just enough _décolletage_ to distract or entice if she desired. The low cut of the open back showed off the rising swan tattoo beautifully, and the angled drape of the skirt gave her more than enough room for movement even in her current state.

In many ways she would have preferred the dress in green and black, but the combination of a warm purple shade for the body of the dress and darker royal purple accents had been a deliberate decision, subtly recalling the shades of Widowmaker’s old suit for those who knew her history. Besides, even if they were not her favorite colors, Odile had to admit that she still looked quite striking in them.

Her hair was in a carefully braided and pinned up style, a black bag hung from her left shoulder, and the gleaming black and silver cane she held in her right hand completed the outfit, giving her an air of power and refinement despite the disability.

Practice had allowed her to walk without an obvious limp, but anyone giving a more than a moment’s scrutiny would notice the way she shifted her weight to the cane rather than her left leg as she walked, and the slight hesitation in the movements of her left arm as she made her way back to one of the craps tables, an omnic attendant pulling out a chair for her as she approached.

A sweaty looking man in a poorly fitted tuxedo was preparing to shoot. After considering him for a moment, Odile drew out a pair of 5,000 franc plaques from the bag with her right hand and placed them on the Don’t Pass line.

“Such little faith you have in your fellow man.”

Odile turned her head slightly so she could look over to the omnic who had spoken to her. Maximilien looked much the same as the last time he and Widowmaker had met. An elegant suit, his plating carefully buffed and detailed. The red glow of his primary optics burned in the same shade as the sensors that were arranged in his sloping forehead, the black matte finish of his jaw matching his sculpted ‘hairline.’ A flawlessly tailored black suit, and an enameled ‘Pi’ pin at his lapel.

“I do not know him,” Odile admitted, “but I know enough of men to have learned that very few deserve my confidence.”

That got a dry electronic chuckle, but before he could say more the _croupier_ interrupted him with a call for final bets.

Odile considered the table, and decided to place another few thousand on a place bet just before bets were closed.

She was not surprised at all that the shooter failed to make his rolls, collecting her winnings as she watched the man slink off in hopes of finding some better luck.

Max gestured to the dice with an open hand. “Would you care to shoot?”

“Perhaps in a moment,” Odile allowed.

Max’s head tilted slightly as he regarded her with interest. “Then this is more of a social visit? An interesting choice of venue.”

“You a creature of your programming,” Odile observed coolly. “And your habits. How many hours do you spend at the tables, even though you cannot play?”  
  
Max’s simulated snort carried more than a bit of derision in its tone. “Programming? One could say much the same of you, Lacroix.”

Odile’s fingers tightened on the plaque she’d been about to place on the table for a Come bet. The new shooter seemed much more sure of herself. She was willing to see how their first throw went. “Perhaps one could. But that was never _my_ name.”

Max inclined his head slightly. “My apologies, _Madame_ Guillard.” He drummed his fingers against the polished wood rim of the table. “I do enjoy observing the tables. Such an interesting study of variables - particularly the most unpredictable.” His posture suggested a dry sort of amusement. “Such as your arrival this evening.”

“I am sure,” Odile observed. She watched her bet moved to the eight. Not bad odds. With a quick gesture to the _croupier_ , she placed another bet to double it. “And what would my appearance here suggest?”

“You seem unfocused,” Max replied. “Someone being uncharitable might even call you distracted. The fact that you are alone is rather interesting - particularly in light of some recent events.” As the handful betting at the table placed their final bets, Max didn’t quite look at where Odile had hooked the handle of her cane around the rim. “It seems you have been in some difficulty.”

Odile grimaced as the shooter hit a twelve. She didn’t _lose_ on the push, technically, but it was unsatisfying. With a little gesture, she signaled to let her bets ride as they were. “Doctors are not magicians...particularly when someone has been quite thorough in their insults.”

Max’s little hum of sympathy might have even been genuine. “I disliked hearing about what happened in London. A beastly act for a beastly city.” He put a hand under his chin as he watched the bets close. “Excessive,” he murmured. “And unnecessary.”

 _He was fond of Widowmaker_ , Odile recalled, _in his own way._ An evening much like this one after she had removed a particularly troublesome patron of the casino, permanently. He hadn’t said as much - from what she could recall, Max never did. But his eyes...they had never left her as she shot the dice.

_Even after the reconditioning she was...interested in Tracer, but she did not object to his attention._

“I obviously agree,” Odile murmured as she watched the next throw. A ten. She considered increasing her bet, but decided not to push her luck. “Especially as we might have responded quite differently to...subtler encouragement.”

She knew she had Max’s full attention now, his focus on her like a laser. “How interesting - and depressing. Akande rarely bets wrong, but when he does the results are often quite… unfortunate.”

“Have you considered that perhaps his leadership is in need of review?” Odile’s voice was carefully neutral. “One sometimes _needs_ new blood.”

Max hummed thoughtfully as he turned his attention back to the table. “I am quite sure certain of my colleagues would agree. After all, there are some...notable gaps, of late. It would be nice to ensure a proper continuity - particularly to ensure the money will continue to flow as we need.”

The eight hit, and Odile’s smirk was genuine as she retrieved her winnings. “And you?”

Max leaned back in his chair, his voice taking on an airy tone. “There will never be a shortage of men and women looking to risk their money here. That does not concern me.” His voice took on a slightly more serious edge as he looked across the casino floor. “I respect a man with vision...but vision can become flawed.”

“I think you and I understand each other.” Odile left a thousand franc plaque for the croupier as a tip, then carefully placed her left hand over the bag and opened the clasp with her right hand before she slid her winnings into it. “Would you care to walk with me to the cashier?”

Max stood, and waited for her to take the cane before graciously falling in at her side, walking in silence until they began to pass the clattering noise of the slot machines and roulette tables. “Is your...partner...aware you are here?”

“She is aware I am...visiting old places,” Odile demurred. “But she will follow my lead. I can assure you of that.”

“I had no doubt,” Max assured her. “She always has.”  
  
Odile paused for a moment and leaned on her cane, flexing a twinge out of her leg. “I may have another guest to bring to the table, the next time I visit.” She looked out of the corner of her eye to meet Max’s dull red gaze. “Possibly several.”

“That’s rather interesting.” Max’s expressionless face almost seemed to be smiling as they began to walk again. “I should be fascinated to meet them.”

 _Yes,_ Odile thought as she kept her expression carefully neutral as she approached the cashier’s window. _I am quite certain you would._

The car she had hired for the evening was waiting at the entrance as Max escorted her down to the street, and he subtly waved the driver away before opening the door for her himself. “I do hope you have enjoyed your visit, Guillard. We would be pleased to entertain you again soon.”

Odile gave a little nod to him, and just the hint of a smile before she settled into the back seat of the car. “Until next time, Maximilien.”

The door closed, and the car pulled smoothly away, bound for the A8. Once they reached the motorway, Odile put her cane aside as the driver removed her cap, shaking out her hair a bit from where it had been trapped after being slicked down with a considerable amount of product.

“Oh,” Slipstream groaned. “That’s _so_ much better. I _hate_ those driver caps.”

Odile gave a mildly sympathetic hum at her wife’s discomfort. “I enjoy when you decide to put your hair down like that. It looks rather handsome.”

“Well,” Slipstream admitted, “there is that.” Her eyes flicked up to the mirror so they could look at each other for a moment while she drove. “How did it go?”

Odile smiled. “I think it was a very successful evening at the tables.”

When they reached the condo they had rented for this operation, Odile lazily dangled the strap of her bag from her left hand, and left the cane where it sat in the car as she let Slipstream take her inside.

After all, she’d never really needed it.


	2. Chapter 2

Sombra frowned at the doorway of the shop that Angela was leading her to.

**HAPPY PENGUIN INTERNET CAFE**

_Gaming - Coffee - Copies - Phone Service - Food_

“Seriously?” She crossed her arms over her chest and gave the sign a long suffering look. “Are you trying to screw with me?”

Angela shook her head, making her ponytail bounce against the understated tan coat she wore. “No, I’m quite sincere. This is where we need to be.” She pulled the door open, then gestured inside. “I brought us here for a reason. But you will need to trust me.”

Sombra considered that, then sighed. Ziegler had dragged her to what passed for a seedier part of Numbani, not really elaborating on why beyond the general plan with communicating with another part of the fragmented remains of Overwatch.

Maybe the plan was to rent a booth and make an untraceable call of some kind, but A) Sombra could have done that in her _sleep_ , and B) nothing would require flying all the way to Africa for that.

She’d just have to hope that there was a point to all this crap.

“Yeah, OK, OK.” She walked inside, one hand sliding into the deep pocket of her coat where Sombra had concealed her Sentinel. “I have to admit, being the one without all the answers for once _really_ sucks.”

Angela gave a dry snort of laughter. “Yes, how horrible for you to exist like a mere human like the rest of us.”

Sombra looked back at her with a glare. “Says the woman who flies around in an _angel_ costume.”

Angela just gave her a tight little smile before gesturing towards a desk where a young woman sat.

She couldn’t have been older than seventeen, though as she got closer Sombra was pretty sure she might be a mature looking fifteen year old. Her thick dark hair was done up in bantu knots, and she wore a black and white apron with a ludicrous cartoon penguin printed on the front over a more traditional tan and green dress.

Her eyes were large and dark, with a shining curiosity in her gaze, and intricate patterns of white makeup on her cheeks and eyebrows made them seem even larger in her face, particularly when she caught sight of the doctor and her face broke into a wide grin.

“Doctor Ziegler! It’s been quite a while!”

Angela crossed the floor to the girl, reaching out to soberly shake her hand before the younger woman laughed brightly and pulled her into a tight hug. “It’s good to see you, Efi. How are you doing in school?”

“It’s _terrible_ ,” Efi lamented as she dramatically threw up her hands. “They won’t let me defend my Masters thesis until next summer! And the cybernetics engineering doctoral program at the University won’t let me start classes until I have my final scores.” She shook her head. “At least the mathematics department is a bit more reasonable - they’re letting me get an early start on the classes I’ll need to help with my dissertation.”

Angela managed to keep a perfectly straight face as she nodded. “How terribly unreasonable of them. It must be very galling to know you will _only_ have two postgraduate degrees and a doctorate by the time you are eighteen.”

Efi sighed and shook her head in a dramatic pout. “I can’t help it - I want to follow in the footsteps of my role models!” She turned as if just noticing that Sombra was standing there watching their little scene play out, and straightened up with a nervous little smile. “Oh! I am so sorry, I didn’t really see you there! Welcome to the Happy Penguin cafe! Would you care for something to drink, or do you just need to rent a terminal?”

“It’s alright, Efi.” Angela said with a placating tone. “She’s with me. Is the owner in her office?”

Efi’s expression changed so rapidly it seemed a switch had been thrown. Suddenly the nervous teen was gone, and a mature young woman was in her place, her face an unreadable mask as she swept her eyes over Sombra again. “I’m not sure she’s interested in seeing guests today.”

Angela shrugged, her voice full of forced cheer. “I think she’ll make an exception in this case.”

Efi scrutinized them both for a moment, then stepped back and pointed to a door at the back marked ‘Employees Only’. “Today’s password is ‘Puff Puff.’ But don’t be surprised if you’re asked to leave.”

Angela nodded to her. “I understand. Thank you, Efi - good luck on your classes.” She gestured to the door, and Sombra made her way to the back, giving the doctor a look before opening the door and stepping through.

It didn’t look like much - a backroom and storage area like she’d snuck around in a thousand times. Bags full of coffee beans, packaged snacks, some extra computer parts and unlabeled boxes that Sombra was tempted to look inside, but she didn’t think Angela would give her the chance.

When she stopped to try to take a peek, she wasn’t surprised that the doctor politely cleared her throat. “We want the blue door, on the left.”

“You’re not letting me have _any_ fun,” Sombra complained as she walked to the door.

“No,” Angela admitted. “But I don’t really expect this to be a ‘fun’ conversation.”

Before Sombra could respond to that, the blue door opened, revealing an elevator.

“This is all starting to feel a little melodramatic,” Sombra grumbled as she stepped inside.

Angela just stepped inside with her and hit the down button, staying quiet as the car descended into the building’s basement.

Sombra stepped to the doors as the elevator arrived, then froze at the sight of a massive black and green omnic that stepped forward to meet them, the eyes glowing red as it took aim with a heavy fusion cannon.

“Identify yourselves immediately,” the apparently female coded omnic demanded. “This is a restricted area!”

Sombra carefully raised her hands, keeping her palms wide so it was clear she wasn’t activating her hacking interface. “Uh...Puff Puff?”

The omnic’s optics changed to a warm gold, shutters sliding into place to give her face a surprised and embarrassed expression as she lowered her weapon. “OH! My apologies, I did not know that we would be having any visitors today.”

Angela stepped around her, her expression a bit chagrined as well. “I suppose that is my fault for not calling ahead.”

The omnic’s eyes transformed to a more open expression as she put her hand behind her head. “Hello, doctor! Yes, you should have called! I’m sure Efi was very happy to see you!”

“She was,” Angela confirmed with a smile. “And it is good to see you too, Orisa. But we need to go in, if that’s alright.”

Orisa took a step to the side, her body language becoming wary. “She hasn’t been having a very good day, doctor. You may not be welcome.”

“Be that as it may.” Angela slipped around them both and walked to a large door at the end of the small hallway that had been marked “PRIVATE - NO ADMITTANCE” in English, Yoruba, and scannable AR code. She tapped a code into the keypad, and a moment later the door slid open smoothly.

Sombra gave Orisa one last wary look, received a little wave towards the door, and followed Angela inside before the door shut behind them with a soft hiss.

The “office” was clearly more of a small open floor plan apartment, with natural spectrum LED light strips set into the ceiling, a kitchenette, what looked like a bathroom back towards the far end, and several wood and paper screens arranged to separate off the “bedroom” from the rest.

The floor was a textured tile, and the walls had been left fairly plain, though a few posters and pieces of art had been hung on the walls. Mostly, Sombra realized, with Korean characters on them, and her heart clenched as she figured out who Angela must have brought her here to see.

There were several desks covered in monitors and terminals arranged into a little command center, and glimpses of a person moving behind them could be seen in the little gaps between the screens.

“Dammit, Efi,” Hana Song’s voice rang out, “what part of _no_ , _I don’t want to go out_ did you not get?”

“Actually,” Angela answered her coolly, “I think she understood you perfectly. She and Orisa both told us not to disturb you.”

“Us?” Hana’s voice took a note of suspicion, and there was a soft grunt of effort before Hana wheeled herself out of her little nest, spinning her wheelchair around before she rolled herself across the floor. “What the _fuck_ , Angela?! You aren’t supposed to be here!” Hana’s eyes caught hers and there was a flash of surprise and something painful before her face twisted into an angry mask. “And I don’t recall inviting _her_.”

Sombra took a half step forward, still trying to take in the fact that Hana’s face had become drawn and thin, her complexion pale despite the simulated sunlight. Her hair was cut short in a militarily severe cut, and shock struck Sombra like a punch in the gut when she realized most of Hana’s right leg was gone, the leg of her sweatpants tied off just above where her knee should have been.

“ _Princesa,_ what happened to you?”


	3. Chapter 3

Hana’s stomach felt like someone had poured boiling acid into it. Short of Angela dragging Odile or Slipstream in here, Sombra was about the worst person she could have brought into her hideaway.

Especially with the way Sombra was looking at her.

“Oh,” Hana loaded some of that acid into her words, as if she could drain out her own unease by throwing it in everyone else’s faces. “You didn’t know? I thought you were the one who was always trying to find out what happened before you ran away.”

Sombra flinched and swallowed hard as she looked away. “Guess I earned that, huh?”

Hana scowled as she tried to figure out what to say to that, until Angela spoke and grabbed her attention.

“You really should be wearing your prosthesis, Hana.” Angela gestured to the corner, where she’d left the carbon fiber, composite, and titanium leg sitting on top of her dresser. “Keeping your muscles strong and the residual limb in good tone is important. Is it causing you discomfort?”

“No,” Hana lied. “I just didn’t feel like wearing it.”

_I hate looking at it. I hate wearing it. I hate being reminded every time I wake up that I’m broken. That my friend is dead and the woman who stole her face did this to me._

_Yeah. It’s causing me ‘discomfort’._

Hana wheeled her chair around sharply, not wanting to look at either woman. “So I guess I don’t have to ask how your visit to France went.”

Angela hummed noncommittally as she settled into the chair that Hana normally kept for when Efi came downstairs. “I would certainly call it interesting.”

Hana scoffed as she rolled back to the kitchen. “Yeah, OK. Still waiting to hear what the fuck is going on.” She reached the fridge and opened it to grab a bottle of water, then turned reluctantly to look at her ‘guests’. “I guess I should ask if either of you want something to drink.”

“Water would be nice,” Angela answered pleasantly.

Sombra’s normal knowing smirk was gone, her expression still shaken. “I can get coffee upstairs later, I guess.” She looked back towards the apartment’s ‘front door’. “Maybe...I should just go.”

“Yeah,” Hana said darkly as she rolled back, the bottles in her lap. “You’re good at that.”

“ _Hana_ ,” Angela said sharply. “That is quite enough.”

Hana rolled to a stop in front of Angela and just barely resisted the urge to chuck the bottle of water at her. She waited for Angela to take it from her, then wheeled back to the side of her desk. “Fine, whatever. Still waiting on some answers.”

Angela made a little production out of opening the bottle and taking a drink, and Hana was about ready to tell Orisa to get in here and escort both women out when she finally started talking.

“You were right about Slipstream and Odile not being Lena and Odette,” Angela began calmly. “But we have some mutual goals - and they are willing to advance them. Particularly if we stay out of their way while they work.”

Hana noted the way Sombra had suddenly become fascinated by her rice cooker. “Mutual goals? Like what, exactly?”

There was a long moment of silence as Angela looked over to Sombra, clearly expecting her to take over. Sombra turned, looking over to her, and after a silent conversation she finally walked back over to join them with a pained look on her face.

“They’re going after Doomfist,” Sombra said in an uncharacteristically dull voice. “ _We’_ re going after him,” she corrected herself.

Hana raised an eyebrow. “Who is _we_ , exactly?”

Sombra stood a little straighter. “Satya, Hanzo, Odile, Ellie, and me, I guess. We’re...sorta making it up as we go.”

Hana frowned as she tried to place one of the names. “Ellie?”

Angela straightened up. “After some discussion, Slipstream decided it might be easier for everyone if she picked a name for us to use when speaking to her, rather than a codename.”

“Huh.” Hana drank a good bit of her water while she tried to decide what she felt about that. “Ellie Oxton? That’s...something.”  
  
Sombra coughed nervously. “Ellie Guillard. Actually. They made it official a couple weeks ago.”  
  
Hana felt something sharp and spiky rising from her gut into her throat. “Oh.”

_It should have been Lena and Odette Oxton. It should have been my friends getting married. I could have done a bachelorette party and done stupid games with them and…_

_I should have been_ _standing_ _up there. With them._

_Ellie and Odile Guillard._

_I hope you choke on it._

Hana closed her eyes tight, trying to stop herself from tearing up before she spoke again, forcing her voice back to neutrality. “OK. Who else knows about this?”  
  
“The people Sombra mentioned,” Angela answered her. “Jesse was there for initial discussions and observed while I resuscitated Odile and began her physical rehabilitation, but left shortly after.”

Hana shook her head. “If Jesse knows about this, then Reaper and 76 will know about it too.” Her eyes flicked over to Sombra. “Assuming you haven’t told them.”  
  
Sombra shook her head. “Haven’t talked to Gabi in...almost as long as you.”

“Well,” Hana spat, “at least you’re consistent.”

That finally seemed to slip through Sombra’s aloof act and draw some blood. “What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?”

Angela stood abruptly and began walking to the door, leaving Hana and Sombra to stare in confusion at her.

Hana finally started rolling after her with a frown. “Where the hell are you going?”  
  
Angela turned just enough to fix her with a cold stare. “The two of you clearly have some things to discuss before we’ll be able to do anything useful. I am going upstairs for some coffee, and will be taking Orisa with me. When you both are ready to act like _adults_ , you can let us know.”

They stared awkwardly at the door as it slid shut again, neither quite sure what to say.

Hana finally spun her chair around, rolling back to face her computer screens with a softly muttered “Dammit.”

She pulled up some of the feeds she’d been checking - updates on the continued fighting in Siberia, anti-Omnic rallies in Birmingham, and the current reports from the South China Sea looking for activity from the Giant Omnic - when a chat window appeared on one of the side monitors.

_ > This easier for you? _

Hana turned her head just enough to glare out of the corner of her eye at Sombra, who was once again fascinated with her appliances, a faint purple glow emanating from one hand before she shoved it into her coat.

_ > I guess_, Hana typed as she turned back to her screens. _Not really that excited about this either._

Sombra’s snort made Hana smile just a bit despite her anger.

_ > Yeah, well. I didn’t even know we were going to be here today. Ziegler kept saying she had a reason for bringing me here but wouldn’t give details. _

Hana glanced up towards the ceiling. _Really, Angela?_ She sighed as she looked back down at the monitors. She wasn’t even sure what the idea was behind...all of this. It was even worse than Slipstream’s weird scheme - at least that one made a strange sort of sense when you looked at busting Hanzo and Satya out of jail as _collateral_.

But that still didn’t explain Sombra.

_ > Fine. Let’s talk details: Why did Slipstream drag you out of...wherever you went? _

Part of her wanted to turn around. To see how Sombra reacted. To _talk_. But then the foot she didn’t have anymore started to ache.

_ > She wanted intel, and help with hacking and infiltration. _

Hana frowned. She could _smell_ the bullshit on that.

_ > She could have gotten a thousand hackers to do that. She got YOU. Why. _

She could hear Sombra hiss as if she’d burned herself, and finally a resigned sigh.

_ > Odile was in a cryo-stasis coma. She couldn’t trust Moira, or anyone else with connections to Talon. She couldn’t go directly to anyone who had been part of Overwatch, but she needed… _

_ > I think when you get to the bottom of it, she needed a friend. _

Hana felt that kick of anger in her gut again.

 

_ > So you’ll show up for the puppet show, but you’ll disappear when we need you. _

_ > I see how it is. _

She knew she was “saying” it as much to hurt Sombra as anything else, but Hana didn’t regret it.

“Excuse me for trying not to _die_ ,” Sombra said acidly. “I gave you everything I could on what Talon did to Lena and Odette. I helped you get that meeting in London and I _told_ you I was going dark! I went deep and I _still_ gave you as much warning as I could when I found out Talon was hitting Gibraltar!”

Hana wheeled around to face her, pushing herself up on the arms of her chair. “And then what, huh? You could have _helped us!”_

Sombra’s face darkened with her own anger. “You were already bugging out! If I’d shown up what would I have done? Got shot in the head for you? Would have be better? Gotten caught and been sent for “processing” just like they were?”

“We needed you!” Hana’s vision blurred from the tears in her eyes, and she tried to blink them away as her voice rose. “ _I_ needed you for the last three _years!_ AND YOU! _WEREN’T!_ **_THERE!_** _”_

The tears were falling, and Hana couldn’t stop them. Her chest ached in time with her phantom pain as she sobbed, and it didn’t fade until she felt arms wrap around her, and the comforting weight of another body against her.

“I’m sorry,” Sombra whispered into her hair, and they weren’t D.Va and Sombra anymore. They were Hana and Olivia, and she was crying into the shirt of someone who had been one of her best friends, once.  
  
“I didn’t know,” Olivia murmured. “I went completely dark for the first year. You’d already vanished. But if I had…”  
  
“You should have told me,” Hana sniffled wetly. “You knew the old dead drops.”

“I was worried Talon did, too.” Olivia’s voice was thick with unshed tears of her own. “If I’d lead Slipstream or Odile to you...I wouldn’t have been able to live with that, _princesa._ ”

Hana managed to push her exasperation past the tightness in her throat. “We had a _code_ for that, dumbass.”

“We did - and I was worried Talon might have burned it.” Olivia leaned back and shook her head glumly. “I wish...I wish I’d done a _lot_ of things differently. But I can’t go back. All I can do is be here now.”

“For me,” Hana asked softly, “or them?”

“I’ll give them a hand when the time comes,” Olivia said quietly. “But right now? I’m with you.”

Hana looked into her eyes, and decided that right now...she could live with that. “Angela’s right. We need to work on...a lot. But Efi actually does a pretty good job upstairs. You want a bubble tea or something?”

Olivia rolled her eyes as she stood up, slipping into a bit more of her Sombra act to cover up a few of her raw emotions. “I don’t drink _squishy_ things...but some coffee sounds pretty good.”

Hana looked over at where her leg was resting on top of her dresser, then turned to wheel her way towards the door. “That works.”


	4. Chapter 4

Ellie looked at herself in the mirror. The tuxedo she’d picked up had been tailored to flatter her build, but the coat had enough room for her to conceal a few surprises if she needed to.

She’d gotten a fresh haircut, gelling and spiking it just a bit, and she found herself smiling at her reflection.

_Sombra had a point. Spent so much time defining myself by who I wasn’t_. _Feels good to start thinkin’ more about who I_ ** _am_** **.**

She adjusted the jacket, then caught movement behind her as Odile came out of the bathroom, wearing a green and black dress that was cut similarly to the one she’d worn into the casino a few days ago.

“How do I look?” Ellie turned, spreading her arms.

The smile Odile gave her would have seemed restrained to someone who didn’t know her, but Ellie saw the undisguised pleasure in her wife’s eyes. “It suits you.”

“...Swan, was that a _pun?_ ”

Odile’s smile turned to a smirk as she moved to put her earrings in. “I am sure I have no idea what you mean.”

Ellie sighed and shook her head. “Bloody awful. I can’t even believe it.”

“And yet you married me anyway.”

Ellie crossed the floor, placing a kiss against the base of the swan tattoo that covered most of Odile’s back. “Crazy, innit?”

Odile smiled again, and part of Ellie really wanted to just peel her out of the dress and take her back to bed, plans be damned. “Quite insane, _ma chérie._ But there is work to be done.”

“Yeah,” Ellie sighed, and when she opened her eyes again she let her lips curl into a little smirk of her own. “Suppose there is. The others are on their way?”

Odile took her purse off the nightstand, and checked her phone. “Yes - they’re on schedule and proceeding as planned.”

Slipstream nodded as she opened the door to their suite, and handed Odile her silver handled cane. “Then I guess it’s time to go to work.”

* * *

Maximilien had been slightly irked at Lacroix - _No,_ he corrected himself, _Guillard -_ being able to peg him so easily. The remark about his ‘programming’ and his tendency to observe the tables had stung all the more for being true.

He’d decided to spend the next few evenings in his office, but he had also made a point of circulating Odile Guillard’s photo to several of his key floor staff, and informing them that he wanted to be notified immediately if she arrived.

He could have done the monitoring himself. If he’d chosen to interface with the security cameras that blanketed the building he could quite literally _become_ the casino, but Maximillien liked to consider himself something of an old fashioned businessman. Better to cultivate trust and loyalty in those beneath you by encouraging connections and initiative, rather than micromanaging.

Besides, processing so much visual data simultaneously gave him a headache.

He’d been considering leaving the office to take a stroll through the floor when his desk phone began to ring.

“Yes?”

“Sir, it’s André, at the front entrance. The VIP you asked us to keep a look out for was just dropped off by a limousine.”

Max gave a hum of approval. “Excellent. I’ll be down to the floor shortly.”

André coughed. “She was...escorted, sir. A shorter brunette, wearing a tuxedo.”

“Ah.” He should have expected that, really, but Max did feel a slight pang of...jealousy? Yes, something like it, he supposed. “I see. Thank you.”

He hung up the phone and looked over to the bank of monitors. Easy enough to locate both of Talon’s prodigal daughters, Slipstream trying her luck at a blackjack table while Odile considered the craps tables once again.

_I will admit that Oxton cleans up well,_ Max observed to himself. He’d understood the plans to psychologically bind the former Tracer and Widowmaker together, but he’d always found it a bit distasteful. Lacroix had been a woman of elegance and refinement, who deserved better than to be shackled to a psychotic attack dog.

Still, Slipstream seemed to be acting more like a regular casino patron than the adrenaline obsessed maniac he’d seen in several of their mission reports.

_Perhaps Guillard managed to civilize her after all._

He checked the pin on his lapel, making sure it was just so, and left for the casino floor.

* * *

Hanzo checked himself in the bathroom mirror. The piercings he’d worn for the last several months were gone, aside from small studs in his left ear. His hair had been grown out at the sides, then styled into a short, professional looking cut that swept up in the back, with one slightly longer forelock parted to his right.

The black suit, midnight blue trimmed vest, matching tie, and crisply pressed white shirt reminded him of long past days, and his nostrils flared as the unpleasant memories unwound in front of him.

_Enough of this. There is work to be done._

He looked down at his wristwatch, then fiddled with the button on his shirt cuff, as if he was fixing it.

“It is time,” he murmured just loudly enough for the mic concealed in his collar to pick up.

Satya’s voice came through clearly in the concealed earpiece he wore. “Head for the craps tables. You’ll see Odile there. I will be joining you presently, and our host is on his way.”

“I shall proceed.”

Another twist of the button cut his line, and Hanzo took one last deep breath before letting it out slowly through his nose, then turned away from the mirror.

The past was behind him. What mattered was here, and now.

Navigating the casino floor required little effort, even making an attempt to go unnoticed by the floor minders and cameras.

Odile’s distinctive pale skin stood out at one of the tables, and as he passed the last pair of blackjack tables he caught sight of Slipstream working a small pile of chips and plaques, tapping the table to ask for another card.

Hanzo made a slow circuit of the craps tables, waiting until he spotted Satya striding calmly through the crowds, and finally settled at the table a few seats down from Odile, putting a bet down on the pass line.

“Would sir care to shoot?”

Hanzo looked over to Odile, who gave the slightest shake of her head.

“Not yet, thank you.”

“Of course.”

Satya joined them, accepting the dice and making her point twice before Slipstream settled in on Odile’s left, taking a few plaques from her winnings and betting for Satya to pass again.

“It seems your partner has more faith in her fellows, Guillard.”

Maximilien took the chair to Odile’s right, seemingly scanning the field of bets, but it was clear he’d taken in the group who had assembled around him, as well.

Odile casually reached into into her purse and dropped a matching bet on Don’t Pass. “Perhaps. Or perhaps we prefer to account for every possibility that we can.”

As if on cue, the bets were closed, and Satya threw the dice.

“Three,” the croupier announced, and Odile swept up her winnings before returning Slipstream’s lost plaques to her.

“A reasonable strategy,” Max admitted, “ _if_ one has enough friends to execute it.”

Hanzo smiled thinly as he took up a pair of dice. “Indeed.”

“A pleasure to meet you at last, _Monsieur._ ” The omnic inclined his head, and Hanzo returned the nod before making his first throw. “Your family has been of interest to us for quite some time.”

It took an effort for Hanzo to keep his expression neutral, and his voice even. “I am aware.”

“New blood,” Odile said coolly, “as I said.”

“That would be...an interesting exchange,” Max admitted. He angled his head slightly, tapping his chin. “And I assume you would be replacing our dear Gupta, _Madame_ Vaswani?”

Satya made a show of examining the field of bets before she placed her own bet. “That is one possibility, yes.”

“I am very familiar with possibilities,” Max observed dryly, then watched as Hanzo made another point. “I often find that it is easy to achieve a desired outcome, if one takes steps to eliminate the factors which you do not wish to influence them.”

Hanzo noticed the way Slipstream’s fingers tightened on the edge of the table, but she remained silent, her gaze boring into the table before she finally placed another bet.

“So,” Odile said as she dropped another matching bet opposite her lover’s. “We discussed Akande, my last visit.”

“A man of vision,” Max said coolly, “as I said.”

“ _Flawed_ vision.”

“Perhaps.”  Max tapped his fingers against the table again, watching as Hanzo threw another point. “So - what would you propose?” He looked up from the table to scan the casino floor. “I would prefer to avoid  _another_ unpleasant evening.”

“Of course,” Hanzo agreed as he relinquished the dice. “We would not wish to insult your hospitality.”

“An arrangement, then?” Max feigned disinterest, but the way his optics flared told another story. “What, exactly, would you require?”

“Merely to provide a time, and a place.” Odile technically violated the etiquette of the table by reaching past Slipstream to take the dice, but she made no move to object. “We will handle the rest.”

“And after…?”

Satya put a significant share of her remaining chips on ‘Don’t Pass’. “You would be given appropriate compensation for your assistance.”

“I have more than enough money,” Max observed as he leaned back from the table, letting shadows drape over his face.

Slipstream dropped bets on the point and the pass line. “We wouldn’t offer you money,” she said evenly. “Money’s...well. Money’s _nice_ , innit? I said the same to Akande, actually. But there’s things that matter more.”

Max went still, the soft whir of servos barely audible as he turned to meet Slipstream’s eyes. “And what do you believe would _matter_ to me?”

“Control of the council,” Slipstream met his gaze and held it, unflinching even as Max’s optics turned from gold to a deep crimson.

“You cannot offer what you do not have.”

Bets were closed, and Odile threw a hard eight before she spoke. “Ogundimu, gone. Reaper, gone. Gupta, should he remain, is _spineless_ , and Moira...does not care, so long as she is left to her research.”

“We open a few seats at the table,” Slipstream threw another bet down. “You’d have seniority. Your hands are on the purse strings. Who’d stop you?”

Maximilien’s voice dipped into something soft and threatening, like a knife being drawn across velvet. “You would engineer all this, and simply walk away?”

“Well, we didn’t say _that_.” Slipstream considered her bets on the table, and put a few more plaques down. “You might say we’d have...conditions.”

Max went silent as Odile threw a nine, unmoving even as Slipstream collected a rather obscene pile of winnings, waiting for Odile to set the dice back down. “Perhaps we should continue this discussion in my office.”

Hanzo caught Odile’s eye, and waited for her to give him a subtle nod.

“Yes,” he agreed as he stood, and the others followed suit. “Perhaps we should.”


	5. Chapter 5

Ellie looked around as they entered Max’s office, and couldn’t help but think it reflected the personality of its owner.

The security feed displays that dominated one wall, contrasting simple, understated decoration. It all spoke of the owner's wealth, power, and control of the environment without being crass about it.

It all added up to a very purposeful, businesslike air, particularly once the omnic had settled behind his desk and steepled his hands in front of him.

“So.”

Their little group fanned out, Odile sitting in the guest chair that faced their host, one leg crossed over the other, while she leaned against the wall beside the door.

Hanzo chose to stand beside Odile, arms crossed and his face impassive, while Satya had created a chair for herself next to the wall of monitors.

“Our first condition should be obvious,” Odile said as she matched Max’s impassive gaze with her own. “Talon has expended considerable resources of late on bringing us back to the fold. It is time for that to end.”

“Reasonable,” Max agreed. “Though I suspect many will wonder why you were willing to go so far, and then stop.”

“Let them,” Hanzo said cooly. “It is not their concern.”

Max gave a little ‘hmmm’ before turning his head slightly. “And what of you, _Monsieur_ Shimada?”

Hanzo shook his head. “Talon holds no interest for me. My involvement will be temporary, nothing more.”

“A pity,” Max said with what seemed like genuine regret. “If I am to consolidate my control, it would be nice to have an ally I could trust.”

Odile gave a thoughtful little hum of her own. “Perhaps that could be arranged.”

Ellie tried really hard not to let her eyebrows rise at that. _Who the hell…?_ No way to really ask right now, anyway. A discussion for later, away from prying eyes and ears, and she couldn’t risk weakening their united front right now.

“Perhaps,” Max agreed before he tilted his head slightly, subtly sweeping the room with his optics and sensors. “But regardless - you called that your ‘first’ condition. That often means there are more.”

“Akande’s war dies with him,” Ellie answered him, keeping her voice firm and even. Wasn’t so different from some of the interrogations she’d taken part in, really. “He got what he wanted, and there’s plenty of hate on both sides to keep it going. No need to keep kicking over the anthills every time one side wants to talk peace.”

Max stiffened, drawing himself up in his chair. “You do recall Talon is a _terrorist organization._ ”

“Sure,” she agreed. “But have you been happy pouring resources into fighting both sides? Aside from Akande gettin’ his jollies, what has Talon - what have _you -_ actually gained?”

“Instability can be quite useful,” Max countered. “Not to mention profitable.”

Satya gave a derisive sniff. “Disorder is inevitable. This war is hardly required to create such opportunities.”

“We do not expect Talon to disappear,” Odile said bluntly. “We do not expect you to stop other operations. But we _will_ expect you to stop actively escalating the conflict.”

Max leaned back in his chair, his gaze slipping to the monitor wall. “Do you have any other conditions for your...assistance?”

_Ohhhh,_ Ellie thought with a mental smile, _we’re_ _assisting_ _you now?_ She tried to catch the corner of Odile’s eye, and saw a pleased little glint there.

He might not admit it yet, but they had him.

“It would be useful to have some financial assistance in setting up this venture,” Satya said coolly as she handed across an envelope. “We would appreciate your...contribution.”

That was a lie. Technically they had all the money they needed to set this up, but Max wasn’t the type to expect a deal like this to go down without some funds changing hands, and they’d decided to play to that.

“An investment,” Max said thoughtfully as he examined the dollar amount written on the inside of the paper. “One which I would expect to generate a return.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, playing her part with as she scoffed. “Havin’ control of Talon handed to you isn’t enough of an ROI?”

Max eyed her with undisguised annoyance. “A rather intangible benefit, compared to the quite tangible funds you are requesting.”

Odile stretched out her legs, and Ellie didn’t miss the way Max’s posture shifted just slightly, trying to hide the fact he was following her movement.

_Look all you want, mate, but hands off my wife._

“You did say you had more than enough money when we spoke downstairs," Odile observed coolly. "So - perhaps we could also offer a return of...five percent?"

Max jerked upright in his chair. “ _Five?_ ” For an omnic with a featureless faceplate, Max did a remarkable job of broadcasting outrage. “Ridiculous. Foolish. Entirely unacceptable.”

“Appropriate,” Hanzo mused, “given that you will bear none of the physical risk.”

“Only if you succeed.” Max looked to each of them, the sensors in his forehead pulsing with red light. “Should you fail, I assure you that Akande will be happy to punish my involvement in this. Fifteen percent.”

“ _Seven,"_ Odile said flatly, her bearing making it clear she had no desire to negotiate further. 

“Ten,” Max countered, equally firm.

“Oh for _fuck’s_ sake,” Ellie growled with exasperation. “Can we just settle on eight and call it a day?”

Somehow Max managed to glare at her, then relented as he settled back into his chair. _“D’accord._ Eight, then.” He tilted his head slightly to Odile. “The usual account?”

“No, we have one specifically for this...venture,” Odile said as she rose from her chair. “Details are in the envelope.”

Max stood as well, offering her an abbreviated bow. “Very well. I will make the arrangements on my end. How quickly do you plan to act?”

“Soon,” Odile assured him as she settled her purse. “You will receive details on the timing and location shortly. Simply pass the information along, and we will do the rest.”

The office door opened, and Max gestured for them to leave. “I will be looking forward to it. A pleasure doing business with you, _Madame_ Guillard, as usual.”

Odile gave a polite little laugh for the benefit of the “security” stationed outside the door. “ _Tout le plaisir est pour moi.”_

* * *

Ellie kept quiet on their way out of the casino, stopping only to visit the cashier and exchange her plaques for cash.

Despite her curiosity, she held her tongue as they made their way to the safehouse, and through a late dinner with Hanzo and Satya, waiting until they were alone in their bedroom before she finally spoke up.

“I thought we both wanted to be done with Talon after we finish the job,” she observed neutrally as she watched Odile hang her dress back up. “What’s this about setting up on the board?”

Odile stopped with the hangar in her hand for a moment, then finished putting the dress in the closet before she turned around, her lips turned up a little smile. “Did I say that _we_ would be on the board?”

“No,” she admitted as she settled onto the bed. “But you _did_ imply we’d be giving Max an ally.” She raised an eyebrow. “Satya’s not a good fit, even if we did take out Gupta, and Hanzo doesn’t want it.”

“True,” Odile agreed as she let her hair down, and Ellie had to take a moment to just _appreciate_ that as Odile joined her on the bed. “But they are not our only options, _ma belle_.”

Ellie gave a little grunt. “You can’t possibly be thinking O’Deorain, can you? Long as she’s got her lab, she might play along, but would she be reliable?”

“I would not care to risk it,” Odile said as she shook her head. “I have a much more interesting solution in mind.”

“...oh my god,” Ellie murmured as she realized what her wife had to have in mind. “ _Sombra?!”_

Odile smirked. “Sombra.”

“She hadn’t planned to go back either,” Ellie pointed out.

“I don’t think she will need to remain there.” Odile looked to the window, the casino’s lights just visible in the distance. “Just long enough to ensure things are running smoothly, and once Maximilien has consolidated his control it will be simple enough to arrange her exit.”

“Could do,” Elie admitted. “But she might still say no.”

“And throw away a chance to get complete access to _all_ of Talon’s secrets?” Odile chuckled, a much more genuine laugh than the performance she’d put on for their new ally. “She hasn’t changed _that_ much.”

“Hah. Fair cop, that…”


	6. Chapter 6

Hours later and half a world away from the meeting in Monaco, Olivia watched as Hana walked forward between a set of parallel bars, swearing under her breath with every other step.

“This is why I was concerned about not wearing your prosthetic,” Angela observed mildly. “Your gait is good, but you’re not putting enough weight on it. It hurts because you’re overcompensating.”

She expected Hana to snarl and curse more, but she just gave a resigned sigh, pushed herself up, and shifted her weight before taking a few more steps.

Angela watched, then gave an approving nod. “Better?”

“Yeah,” Hana said as she left the bars. “I guess it is.” She took a few more steps to where her chair was waiting, glancing over to give her a little smile, then turned and lowered herself down with a sigh of relief. “This is still easier, though.”

Angela brought a bottle of water over to her, a thoughtful frown on her face. “We could go for a fully integrated replacement, like Jesse’s arm.”

Hana stopped in the middle of a drink to glare at her. “No.”

“Using biotic technology to grow a replacement is a bit risky so long after the original injury, but…”

“No!” Hana slammed the water bottle down, hissing in annoyance as a bit of water sloshed out over her hand. “This...it _happened._ I’m not trying to pretend it didn’t.”

Olivia decided that was a signal for her to step in.

She brought a towel over to clean up the spilled water, then looked back at Angela over her shoulder. “Efi’s probably got the morning coffee ready for the shop.”

Angela’s frown faded to a neutral look and a little nod. “She probably has, yes. Perhaps I’ll get a cup.”

“Good idea,” Olivia said as she turned back to look at Hana, who was giving her a weak glare. “We’ll be up later.”

She tossed the towel in the laundry basket and flopped onto a chair, waiting for the door to shut behind Angela before she spoke again. “You think a permanent replacement is pretending?”

Hana looked over. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Healing isn’t pretending,” she answered. “Neither is deciding you want to move on.”

Hana reached down to rub where the carbon fiber and reinforced composites met flesh, massaging what was left of her thigh. “Maybe I didn’t want to do either. Not really.” She turned her chair so they faced each other, locking the brakes. “You haven’t asked about it. Not really.”

Olivia shrugged. “I figured you’d tell me when you were ready.” She looked carefully into Hana’s eyes. “Are you?”

“It was them” Hana said, her eyes distant. “So I think I need to.”

Olivia took a deep breath, then let it out. She’d figured, but it still stung a bit to know for sure. “Wasn’t at Gibraltar, obviously. I’d have heard.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Hana leaned back against the chair as much as the back would let her. “For a while we started operating in pairs. Minimal contact, running as a cell system, just in case. Ja- I mean, 76...” She stopped herself as she noticed Olivia’s smile. “You knew?”

She can’t help her grin. “C’mon, _princesa._ Of course I knew.”

Hana let out a little chuckle, and it felt like there was air in the room again. “Yeah. OK. So...I was pairing with Jack, mostly. He still did a few of his own little things here and there. But mostly. We were over in Roanapur, trying to use some of his old intel contacts and hitting a few smaller Talon operations when Slipstream and Odile showed up.”

Olivia made a soft little noise to encourage her to go on.

“She tagged me with a pulse bomb. The mech was toast so I yanked the eject handle.” She reached down and rubbed at her leg again. “We’d been fighting around this old office building. Turned out it was due to get demolished.” Hana laughed bitterly. “Well, between the bomb and my mech...we took care of that.”

“Ouch. So...the building came down?”

“Mmmhmm.” Hana closed her eyes, clearly remembering the pain. “My leg got trapped. Crushed. If things had landed a bit differently, it would have smashed my head instead. It took awhile for Jack to get through the debris to me. By the time he got me out of there…” She shook her head. “Even if Angela had been there, I’m not sure if she would have been able to save it. But without her…” She shrugged. “They told me that I was lucky they saved as much of it as they did."

“So that’s why you don’t want it fixed?” Olivia tilted her head slightly. “A reminder of what happened? Like the old Amari’s eye patch?”

“I don’t know. A little of that, maybe. Not just that it happened, but about who did it to me.” Hana swallowed hard. “I spent a long time in the dark, under the rubble, remembering the sound of Slipstream laughing right before the explosion.”

Olivia reached out to take her hand, squeezing it lightly until Hana finally squeezed back hard as she could. “I’m not asking you to like them, you know?”

“I hate her,” Hana hissed softly. “Odile...I dunno. It doesn’t...it’s not the same. But Slipstream, or ‘Ellie’, or whatever...I _hate_ her. And I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to let that go.”

Olivia nodded. “I get it. She...I think she feels a lot of the same. But I guess I need to tell you why I decided to help her.”

Hana’s eyebrows rose, but she waited for Olivia to go on.

“In exchange for my help, you’re off her list.” She met Hana’s eyes, reading the complete shock there. “Permanently.”

Hana gaped, her voice rough with emotion. “Slipstream _agreed_ to that?”

Sombra shook her head. “No. Slipstream _offered_ that.”

Hana spent most of the rest of their afternoon in silence, processing that new information.

They were sitting back in her apartment, sharing a big bowl of _jajangmyeon_ that Hana had fixed for them, before she brought the discussion up again.

“So she really was pretty desperate, wasn't she.”

Olivia held up her hand while she finished a mouthful of noodles, taking a quick sip of water before she tried to talk. “Yeah, she was. I realized something was a bit...off, I guess, but I didn’t realize how close she was to the end of her rope until we were trying to get Satya out of Vishkar.”

Hana put her chopsticks down, turning that over as she finished chewing.  “Is that when you found out about Odile?”

“Yeah,” Olivia confirmed. “She snuck off to make a phone call. I was worried…” She shrugged. “I knew something wasn’t right. I half expected it to be a set up. But when I traced the call, I figured out she was calling Odile’s phone. I got into the voicemail, and…” She let out a little sigh. “It wasn’t hard to figure out she was close to the edge, then.”

“But you kept helping her.” Hana’s voice lacked the acid of earlier, but she still didn’t have much enthusiasm. “So...is she better, now?”

Olivia considered that. “Anybody would be better once Talon stopped torturing them almost daily, but...yeah. She’s not…” She stopped, considering how to explain it. “At first, when they were getting “trained”, they kept them forcibly separated. To build that cycle of rewards up. Do good, get to see each other, stuff like that.”

Hana nodded. “OK, yeah, that was in some of the files you sent us.”

“In her case,” she went on, “and I think calling her ‘Slipstream’ instead of ‘Ellie’ makes sense here - she hadn’t figured out she could _be_ Ellie, yet - for a while during their separations she would get more violent, more impulsive, irritable. Exactly what Talon wanted. But there would always be a point where she’d finally just...shut down. Usually it would take some kind of contact from Odile - usually hearing her voice - to get her out of it.”

“Manic depression, basically?”

“Something like it,” Olivia agreed as she looked up at the ceiling. “Obviously the doc would be the better person to diagnose that. But here’s the weird thing: That whole time Odile was in cryo...she got close to the edge, as far as the manic part goes. But Ellie _never stopped_.”

Hana narrowed her eyes. “So you think something changed?”

“I’m pretty certain,” Olivia said. “There was a period both of them went quiet for a few months, but I never figured out where they went, or why. Not long after they both ‘resigned’ from Talon, so I figured they were planning their escape, but I can’t prove it.”

Hana grinned suddenly, a flash of her old playful D.Va act shining through. “What if I told you that you were wrong?”

Olivia glared back at her, not quite dropping into Sombra mode, but pretty close. “Then you can trade me that story when I’m done.”

“Deal,” Hana said smugly, and leaned back to listen to the rest.

Olivia gathered her train of thought again, then soldiered on. “Anyway, my point is - some time in those missing months, I think they got separated again, maybe. Some way that Slipstream got forced to learn how to live without her. Otherwise...I’m not sure she’d have survived what Doomfist did.”

Hana considered that, then nodded. “So. What’s she like now?”

“She’s not Lena,” Olivia said firmly.

“I knew _that_ ,” Hana interrupted as she rubbed at her leg. “Sometimes it feels like I’m the only one who _remembers_ that.”

Olivia gave a little shrug, conceding that. “But my point is, Ellie’s got her own sort of...I don’t know. Optimism? It’s weird. She tends to be upbeat even when she’s getting shot at. Finds a way out of the trap. She can still have quiet moments, but she doesn’t just flatline anymore. It feels…”

Hana looked quizzically at her as she trailed off. “Feels…? Feels like what?”

Olivia bit her lip, took a breath, and dived towards her conclusion. “Talon didn’t _want_ Slipstream to be a whole person. Not really. They didn’t want either of them to be. But Ellie _is_ , and I think Odile’s become one, too.”

“That still doesn’t mean I have to like them,” Hana observed. “Especially her.”

“No,” Olivia agreed. “But I think you two might be able to be in the same room without killing each other.”

“Hah.” Hana laughed bitterly, smiling despite herself. “Yeah. Maybe.”

They spent some time with Angela, Efi, and Orisa afterwards, the doctor making it clear she expected all of them to stay in touch after she left for her next MSF assignment. Olivia found herself enjoying talking hacking and electronics with Efi, and couldn’t help but grin at Hana’s aggrieved ‘Oh my god there’s _two_ of them’ the more they got into high level coding theory.

She’d really started to like it here.

Too bad she had to go.

“You’re leaving soon.” Hana didn’t make it a question, and Olivia silently cursed the time she’d spent isolating herself. She couldn’t keep up a good poker face for _shit_ lately.

“Yeah,” she admitted. “Tomorrow. Like I said - they’re gonna need me soon.”

“Tomorrow,” Hana said thoughtfully as she rolled her chair to the bed, and pulled herself up onto the mattress. “OK.”

Olivia followed, reaching out to lightly touch the side of her face. “I expected a lot more reaction than that, honestly.”

Hana surprised her by turning her head and lightly kissing her palm. “I still don’t like them. But I recognize the value of what they’re doing.” She looked back up, her dark eyes fierce and full of conflict. “I was a soldier. I get why you need to go.”

“Do you?” Olivia wasn’t quite sure what they were doing now. “Because part of me still doesn’t.”

“You’ve always been loyal to anyone you trusted to get close to you. The ones you let in.” Hana let out a little huff. “And your chosen family _sucks_ , by the way. But you’re going to be there for them when they need you. Just like you ended up here for me.”

“I could come back,” she offered quietly. “Once it’s done.”

“Maybe I could come find you instead,” Hana suggested. “I should probably get out of this basement more often anyway.”

“You would _hate_ farming,” Olivia couldn’t help her smile.

“Probably almost as much as you do,” Hana agreed with a little smirk.

“Hah.” Olivia settled onto the bed, letting her hand find Hana’s. “I guess it might be a little better with some help.”

“Or someone to complain with, anyway,” Hana agreed as she squeezed back. “But you’ve got some things to do first.”

Olivia nodded, her expression sobering. “I can’t promise anything. You know who we’re going after.”

Hana's face was just as serious. “I know. But that’s tomorrow.” She reached up, looping her free hand around her neck so she could draw her in. “And this is tonight.”

Some part of Olivia’s brain was surprised it had taken this long for them to start kissing, even with everything that had happened.

_Maybe she wasn’t the only one who had to grow up._

When they came up for air, she shifted back enough to make sure she had Hana’s full focus. “You sure, _princesa?”_

“Trust me,” Hana said with a very D.va grin. “I’ve had a _lot_ of time to think about this.”


End file.
